Page 126 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘You didn’t do anything else, Odélie. We’ll explain to the others what happened – you had no choice, you had to tell him.’

‘Not that,’ she said again.

‘Then what?’

‘Your head,’ she began. ‘I know who did it. I didn’t say anything.’

‘You?’ he asked.

‘No! Not me. But a solider I met in Vodable. I was angry. I heard Werner tell you about Frieda, about everything. He trusted you and I knew that he wanted you to be with her. I was jealous and angry. That night when we performed in the town, I told the solider how you had broken my heart. He – he took it badly and wanted to impress me. I didn’t think he would do anything about it – you know? I just thought it was all talk. I really did. But then, when I heard what had happened, I knew it was my fault.’

Michel stood abruptly.

‘Where—?’

‘I need to go.’

‘Please, Michel, I’m so sorry!’ She fell to her knees and placed her hands together as if in prayer. ‘Please! I am so sorry.’

‘I need to see Werner,’ he said, and turned his back on her as she crouched, weeping, on the floor.

Michel opened the door slowly to find Werner sitting up in bed, reading.

‘Ah, Michel! How are the preparations? Nervous? Not poetry this time,’ Werner waved the book in front of him, ‘Hergé.’

‘Tintin.’ Michel smiled. ‘I know his stories well.’ He sat on the chair next to Werner’s bed.

‘What’s wrong? Don’t tell me the elephant has escaped? It has happened before!’

Michel shook his head. He told Odélie’s tale.

‘Where is Henri?’

‘Gone to the city.’

‘Then we wait. Henri knows many people. Trust me, he will sort this out for us.’

Michel looked at Werner; a crease had appeared on his forehead.

‘Trust him,’ Werner said again, and returned to his book.

The pair sat in silence, the clock on the side table ticking away the hours. It got to three, then quarter past, when the sound of wheels on gravel came from outside.

‘See?’ Werner said. ‘He’s back.’ The crease was still deep on his forehead, and in all the time that had passed he had not turned a page.

They listened as Henri’s quick footsteps climbed the stairs. Then he entered the room as breathless as if he had just run from Paris.

‘Michel, things will need to change with your show tonight. You must leave here by nine.’ Henri was panting, his collar unbuttoned.

‘The show doesn’t begin until eight, we won’t even be halfway through—’

‘That is why it must change.’

Henri passed Michel an envelope. ‘Everything you need is in there. You are leaving France. Tonight. It is the only way.’

Michel opened the envelope. Two tickets to England, then two more on to America. Then, at the back, identification cards: one for Michel Bonnet, the other for Frieda Bonnet.

‘Frieda?’ Michel held up her card.